


A Dusting, A Blizzard, A Constant

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Snow, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 02:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16801762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Snippets to admire the snows through Eos.Part 1: Ignis/NoctisPart 2: Nyx/NoctisPart 3: Ravus/Noctis





	1. Ignoct - Frost in Altissia

**Author's Note:**

> Another snippet challenge with Jazz!

There was a warmth to Altissia that extended beyond the turquoise open waters and the temperate climate that never so much as dipped below freezing after dawn. There was a shimmer to the city, with it’s soft lights and delicate strings of music weaving out across the canals regardless of the time of day; the shimmering wall of cascades reflected back like starlight on the city plazas and walkways. The sea rose and fell around it with the ebb and flow of people moving, gathering at key spots throughout the day. 

For the longest time, Ignis didn’t even know Altissia was capable of getting cold. At least until he woke one morning to see the dusting along the plaza stones outside of the window. The grey waters still moving despite the frost clinging to the imperfect glass. Small tendrils of crisp ice followed every wave and waver in the window to obscure the view as thoroughly as the morning fog Ignis had expected to see. A cloud gripped the upper levels of the city, obscured the pinnacles and peaks of the arches and buildings— the threat of more snow hanging in the air just outside of the little room they had claimed for the duration of the royal visit. 

Ignis braved the chill in the room to fiddle with the radiator, the ancient creaks and pings and clunks of the old accordion beast signalling its return to life, and Noctis curled beneath the covers of the vacated bed. The Leville prided itself on its devotion to comfort, to elegance, to match the city it represented and the guests it housed. Ignis only wished it wasn’t so dedicated to the aesthetic of the ancient world, and had afforded them the luxury of heating sources from this century. 

The steam from his shower clouded the cold windows when he stepped from it. Towel about his waist, he wiped a stripe of clarity and tried to judge the hospitality of the weather from the dusting of snow and the deep churning grey of the waters of the bay. At least the little tendril of frost had edged away from covering the window completed, the delicate crystalline curls frozen in place.

“It snowed,” he stated to Noctis’ sleepy look of curiosity. He offered a smile as the news sunk in, as the improbability of winter in Altissia reached Noctis’ sleep addled brain. 

“Snowed?” Blankets bundled about his shoulders, Noctis joined him at the window with a grin. “Think there’s skating?”

“Not yet, I’m sure.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Forgive me for not wanting you to fall into a frigid canal,” Ignis offered a kiss to Noctis’ forehead before he ushered the Prince off to shower. He dressed quickly, glad now that they had left the chill winds and dull greys of Insomnia winter with most of their wardrobe prepared for the return trip. He had his coat, and scarf, to ward off the worst of the chill winds moving with the canal; the heavy wool thought to be too warm for the trip at first. He knew that it would be welcomed now, for a leisurely stroll through the bustling city. 

He offered Noctis a shirt and sweater once he was out of the bathroom. The windows obscured by steam, Noctis dressed quickly in the bedroom, grinning as he glanced to the obscured city outside; “Where are we going?”

“Breakfast, I should think,” Ignis helped Noctis into his coat— the mariner style a gift from Altissia the year before. Sea-worthy for the young fisherman Noctis tried to be. The heavy coat settle easily on Noctis’ shoulders, the line of it almost a military style in its perfection, and tailored perfectly to Noctis’ form. “You look perfect.”

“The point is to get past the front door, Specs. Can’t if you look at me like that.”

“Apologies,” Ignis said with a smirk, fetching his scarf and wallet as they made their way out to the open strip of wet stone in the bay plaza. 

The warm air of the hotel lobby escaped in a rush around them, the muted steps along elegant, plush carpet giving way to the noise of the Altissean morning. Ignis knew that he should have been prepared for the sudden change when he saw the steamed glass of the hotel front doors, but he pulled his coat collar up against the chill crossing the rolling morning waves. He paused a moment— stepping out of the way of the traffic coming and going from the hotel as they were— to fiddle with his gloves, offering a sigh of relief to Noctis once he was straightened out again. Once the chill air that had carried the fog across the city was properly warded off again. 

“Shall we?”

Noctis had shoved his hands into the peacoat’s pockets, boots already clicking on the frozen stone. Ignis caught up in a handful of long strides, intent on directing them towards warmer air and cozier morning nooks. The sun had risen, but the clarity of the sky was a warning against the chill— the flowers not wilted with the end of the season frozen in their decaying states, long bunches of browned greenery trailing towards the waters and wet slicked stone. The people moved carefully through the labyrinthine city— wary of the wet stones and the threat of frost or ice— the gondolas stood idle, with the rush of winds promising a swift chill through any layers if open water was reached. Shutters were opened slowly to the morning light and noise, small clouds of steam rising from storefronts as temptations beckoned the traffic in out of the cold. 

“What did you want to do, Specs?” Noctis paused at a bridge— a gentle arch over the waters of the wider canals— that would take them upwards, to the bustling plazas.To where the colourful lights still sparkled in the early light, and the homes were painted with more durable pigments than the lower levels. “The place we saw yesterday?”

There was a cafe upwards, with the rest of the tourists, that had seemed welcoming at a first glance. Tables pulled out to the plaza and wide streets, the residents of the city struggling for purchase between the excited early risers of the tourists. They had seen it last night, closed as they left the restaurant they had chosen for dinner— the colourful streamers weighted across the dark windows interlaced with fairy lights Ignis thought may be coloured to match the detailed awning that had stretched outward. He had examined the menu offered twice as they passed, remembered the lingering siren’s call of fresh coffees and tarts. Its seats, if it had any, would face the statue of Bismark, where they could sip at the warming concoction of caffeine and bitter flavours and watch the tourists cast their wishes. Where they could watch the rising sun twist through the metal until the statue lived and breathed with each shifting shadow to match the god it mimicked. 

“No,” Ignis said, taking Noctis’ arm and turning them toward one of the quiet alleys of the residential districts. They would cross the canals, and step through the bustle of the morning crowd as Ignis tried to retrace steps he had only followed once or twice before. 

It took Noctis a moment to recognise the brightly painted building with their weather worn sculptures. The wrought iron and gilded banisters curled and coiled like the Tidemother’s serpentine form around the lamps and railings, snaked through the narrow pathways of the quiet, cold alley. It was the smell that alerted Ignis to the destination first— the bitter promise of black coffee wafting with the winds and carrying the warmth of baked goods in its wake. The scent rolled through the narrow corridor built into the colourful city, and Noctis pressed ahead. 

The fishing spot was a favourite— one of the few open to the anglers there for more than just a romantic trip or a prayer to the sea gods. It was quiet despite the gondola stand and the lost tourists turning quickly for livelier streets— the space empty and a sign indicating the hours of operation were suspended for the season. The worst of the weather was subdued by the tall buildings around them, the wide and secluded piece of the canal spared by the hefty bridges and towering layers of city. The little tree in the plaza was draped in lights and decorations— long lines of fairy lights wrapped around the dormant trunk and into the skeletal branches, linked by strands to the cafe Ignis had in mind for their breakfast. 

The sun had risen quickly, the light reflected against the cold canal waters more than the windows or wet stone. The snow, a dusting though it was, had collected between the cobblestones and in the shadows, persistent in the still, tiny plaza. And Noctis veered off towards the festival posters still pinned to the wooden announcement boards, searching for the list of potential catches to prepare for, while Ignis checked on the hours of the cafe. 

“Noct,” Ignis said, opening the cafe door to allow a fresh breath of steam and smell escape around him; “food first.”

There were tables inside, huddled close to the windows to overlook the stretch of canal though the view opposite was just the barely painted foundations of a building. Ignis paused in the warmth for a moment to study the more complete menu suspended over the wooden counter, warmed out of the wind and in the sunlight still. Inside, among the warmth and soft, rich colours and smells, they shed their coats and settled at a small table that overlooked the art on the walls as much as the waters. The peaks of the waves were broken by feeding fish, and Ignis spared Noctis a glance before ordering for them.

The drinks were not the delicate little samples preferred elsewhere in the city; the strong dark roast of the bitter drinks demanding some sweetness and cream to even out the morning. But the pastries— soft, flaked croissant and rolls, stuffed with hints of fragrant herbs and warmed spices— were the sort found in every shop from one end of the city to the next. There were sweets and more hearty dishes too heavy for a breakfast, but Ignis made note of them all the same.

Noctis stirred in his creams and sugars as Ignis recoiled from the first sip of unaltered coffee. “That strong?”

“I requested what was titled ‘the fishermen’s friend’ for us,” Ignis reached for the cream to mellow out the bitter bite of the steaming drink. “I fear I forgot just how much caffeine a fisherman might need.”

Noctis smiled, mug cupped in his hands as Ignis reached for one of the rolls instead, still warm from the oven. “Stop pouting. I’m sure we’ll find you some fancy coffee later.”

“I’ll survive, Noct.” Ignis was not one to analyse every sip and drop of a cup of coffee. Certainly not one that he had bought on a whim for the name, when the rest all seemed far more sensible lattes and medium roasts. He paused, the soft warmth of the roll at least offering some promise in the cold morning; “I am not pouting.”

“You are.”

“I do not pout.”

“You do.”

“You would know.”

They shared a smile, a quick kiss— broken by the chimes above the door alerting the owner to the new customers— across the table. Ignis removed his gloves once they had properly settled with their drinks and the small tray between them, reaching for Noctis’ hand where it rested on the table. Little flakes from the pastry scattered between them, and the coffee no longer bitter as it cooled. As they grew used to it. 

He admired Noctis’ smile reflected in the window, intent on the canal with its treasures of fish just waiting for him.


	2. Snowed in at Caem

By the time they had reached the Cape, the blizzard had settled in full force. The hill of Caem was engulfed in a flurry of white— the bitter winds reaching along the coastline and threatening to isolate anyone caught in the storm. The weather moved quickly along the coast, following the trail of salt water and icy winds dragged across Lucis from its neighbours and own strange terrains. 

When they left Insomnia early that morning, Noctis dozing in the passenger seat as Nyx drove the familiar roads beyond the city gates, the blizzard was only an inkling of a warning blustering from the Niflheim border to meet them. It was a trail of clouds along the maritime coastline, curling with Shiva’s wrath in a sudden oncoming storm that had seemed so distant when Nyx first bundled Noctis into the old truck barely fit for an excursion to Hammerhead. He had tracked the weather as best he could, following the curl of roads that led them along the sheltered coasts of Galdin first— where the sun and warmth never seemed tempered by the harsher chills.

Winds from Insomnia chased them— flurries on their heels along the road— as they travelled, the slick greys of wet November already giving way to frosty silver in the deepest forests of Duscae and Cleigne. They had moved through the cold, deep greys of the mountains on their way, hugging the coast as they moved. The light snows that had managed to settle before still clung to the shadows of trees well out of range of the roads. But Caem was isolated by forest and hill and water— a rocky edged maritime susceptible to the cold. Nyx had only caught a glimpse of the rocky shores before the flurry engulfed them.

The heat below Lestallum may have helped keep most of the kingdom green all year— the Slough barely gaining a coating of ice in the darkest depths of winter— but Caem was different. Caem was a harsh shoreline jutted out over the open water, not granted the proximity to the Rock and its cindery winds or the protection of a bay like Galdin Quay. It stood out, weathering the storms on a lonely outcrop of jagged shore. Like Insomnia, it stood exposed for the world, but overlooked for its lonely lighthouse and battered vacation home. 

When they arrived, the skeletal trees were almost bent in the harsh winds curling their way down the hill. The last of the browned leaves he expected to see were already buried by the storm, the sun lost behind the white as they struggled up the steps and incline to the battered house for shelter. In the glimpses they had of between the winds and snow, they saw the white clouds extended well beyond the crest of the cliffs, drained colour from the ocean as they approached the house. The flurries of fat, sticky snowflakes and whipping white winds moved fast to cover the coast— the run down royal vacation home absorbing the brunt of the blustery abuse. 

Around them the house creaked with the winds and chill. The furnace struggled to light under their attentions until Noctis encouraged the fires to light with a spark of Lucian magic in frustration. They left the bags where they fell by the door— the rest of the supplies tossed into the kitchen with little ceremony as they searched for ways to warm up the open rooms. When the furnace rattled and clicked to life in the cold, it was still only the promise of warmth later; the old connections and vents, barely warmer than the air around it.

“Why was this a good idea?” Noctis asked once a blanket from the bedrooms had been pilfered and wrapped around his shoulders as he waited for the furnace. Settled into the dining room chair with his cloak of patchwork quilt draped across him. 

Nyx hummed as he sorted through the supplies and rallied the ancient stove to his cause. The large pot was a beacon to his wintery plans. The depleted spice rack his struggling soldiers against the chill. He lined up what he had along the counters, his army of warmth stretched thin. “Because it was either this or meetings, little king.”

“Right.” The royal cloak shifted upward as Noctis burrowed down into it. “Meetings.”

Steaks and cuts of meat from the Crown City farms, stock from the last harvests of Cleigne and Duscae… Nyx sorted through what he wanted to start with, and set the pot to boil. The furnace grumbled and the pipes clicked in discomfort against the cold, but he had faced far worse odds before.

“What are you making?”

“Something to warm you up.”

“My hero.”

Nyx had knew the stew like the back of his hand. He had plenty of memories of his father making it— dumping everything he could find that fit the definition of ‘hearty’ at the time into it. He had fond memories of blizzards shaking the islands, and harsh sea winds beating against the siding of their home, just like here in Caem, and the kitchen being the beating, rushing heart of the place. He could make do with the minimal spices kept stocked for the hunters while the snows piled high outside. 

Before long, the home on the Cape, with its unseen fortifications and unassuming exterior, was warm and hearty— the coil of steam and burble of the pot a happy counterbalance to the rush of winds outside, still seeping in through the edges around the windows. Nyx suspected that they would be snowed in more than he expected, that the piles of snow gathering on the incline of the Cape would leave the house smothered before long. But he had the stew, and the furnace was working despite the theatrics of the sulking, bundled Prince.

“You do realise,” Noctis started as the air started to warm around them; “that this is just like one of Gladio’s stupid romance stories?”

“What do you mean?” Nyx smiled as he focused on cutting the meat for the stew, on seasoning it. 

“We’re snowed in and need to share body warmth to survive. Or there’s only one bed.”

“There’s six beds here, little star. Pretty sure there’s more, actually. Are we counting the base below us?”

“Are you saying that you don’t want to share body warmth?”

Nyx could visualise Noctis’ pout, the little pretence at being offended by his intentional oblivious rationality. He let the meat rest in his mix of spices as he moved to the basic vegetables to slip into the stew; “Only if you refuse to eat the vegetables. I promised Scientia that you’d at least try.”


	3. A Snowfall in Gralea

The snows in Gralea were persistent, constant soft falling flakes that never quite stopped until the turning of the seasons. In the rare moments when the winter storms subsided, the sun dazzled in the clear skies and the light of the moon caused the cityscape to shine. The crowded lights of the city— towers huddled together in the valley like frozen giants— cast away the shadows in the immediate area while the familiar hums and roars of the airships rolled overhead, resonating across the city in the brief flashes of red light. 

The shadows of winter persisted in the huddled valley, edging around the barriers of twinkling lights and glittering, persistent snows. 

Ravus had watched that snow for years when he was bartered away as part of the peace dealings. He spent pieces of his youth fostered in the halls of Zegnautus Keep, overlooking Gralea in the military grandeur of the Imperial heart. The living quarters, the guest quarters, all demonstrated the wealth and power of the Empire, and Ravus recalled the times spent at these same windows as he tried to peer into the streets far below— to where people moved about their daily lives with no thought to the machinations of the Keep and its inhabitants. 

Now, with the innocence of his youth shed, Ravus preferred to use the old habit to ignore the politics being discussed around him. 

This was not an important meeting. It wasn’t a revision of the treaties that required all leaders of Eos to be there. This was not some gathering meant to display strength and fortitude in peace. 

“That’s a nice view.”

And yet Lucis still sent its Crown Prince to show good faith at the invitation. 

“Indeed.” 

The Shield stood guard a few steps away in full uniform, eyes on the ageing Niflheim officials and the grovelling Altissean politicians waiting to be told to take their seats. A glance around the room and Ravus understood that they were among the youngest in these meeting, in this event. 

It almost made him long for the more lively events held in Lucis, where the prince surrounded himself with actual peers rather than the failings of a lost age of war. Even the youth within the Empire— to Ravus’ understanding— had embraced the tentative peace that had settled between their kingdoms. And he supposed it was no wonder then that Noctis searched him out in the crowd. 

The only peer he had in this foreign, cold, glittering city barely holding the shadows in the mountains at bay. Ravus watched his approach by the reflection in the cold window glass, the fat flakes of sticky snow still falling from the night sky in a persistent march to overtake the civilisation eked out in the harsh waste. 

“One of the few nice things about this place,” Ravus muttered, trying to ignore the bemused reflection of the Lucian Prince. 

“That was almost candid, Ravus.”

“Yes, I’d thank you not to dwell on it.”

“Thanking me now, too?” Noctis’ smile would have been infectious in any other setting. In any other palace and time. “The world must be ending.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you suffer me all the same.”

“That was barely a step up from a pun.” Ravus glanced at the Shield for the contained chuckle he heard, and returned his focus to the distant streets obscured by the snow and cold and dark. “I’m sure dinner will be called soon; you should find your place.”

Noctis offered a shrug in response, a small indication of the tables scattered through the room; “We’re the strangers here, they put us together.”

“Of course they have.” Ravus turned from the window to survey the decadence of the room instead. He knew that this was all for show, that the stretch of gold and whites and mask of luxury was little more than a facade for the guests. He had seen the labyrinth below it— the skeletal military complex that forced its citizens not living in the luxury afforded the guests into a bare existence of concrete and cold. He had seen the servants and staff suppress their shudders and chills, felt their hands cool to the touch as they smiled at him and told his younger self not to mind them. He had seen the seeping indifference of the Empire and its Emperor, spreading like the ice that covered the mountains and passes and tundra beyond. 

But this show of wealth and substance impressed only those who refused to look too deep at the chilled heart of it. 

Noctis guided his thoughts to their table— pressed close to the cold windows, the chill of the air outside seeping through the thick, reinforced glass— and the fact that it appeared to be theirs alone. It was set for just them, just two diners among the congregation of dozens. 

“It seems,” Ravus wasn’t certain if he was relieved or insulted; “that we are to be placed alone.”

“Better you,” the Shield grumbled softly as they moved, as Noctis guided him as a prince would a guest despite them both being visitors in this place; “than one of those guys.”

At the table itself, there was a moment of hesitation, trepidation. Training dictated that they treat the other as a guest, honoured by the same statuses and courtly trappings as the other. Ravus wanted to reach for the chair that was to be Noctis’ seat, but in his moment of confusion, the Shield did the honours for them. He wanted to glare at the man, the brute for stumbling his way through their dilemma. 

Instead Ravus merely assumed his own seat and examined the wine that was left to the table. The speeches started as the food arrived; long winded beastly things that could not be reined in with an editor nor sword. The cursory applause was all that was afforded to the Imperial address, and Ravus poured their drinks as the steaming bowls of the soup course were served by chilled young waitstaff with forced smiles and pleasantries. 

“I don’t suppose you were asked to prepare a speech?” Ravus tasted the wine before he grimaced and discarded both glasses to the side. 

“Don’t think they trusted me with one,” Noctis rested his elbow on the table, his cheek on his fist, eyes roaming the ancient, inattentive old warmongers standing to relive their glory days behind nostalgia for battles they never actually saw. “I wouldn’t.”

Ravus bit back a smile at that, and settled for staring at the soup. It was warm enough, he supposed. But it reminded him of the military dishes he once endured for basic training— unwilling to risk the respect of his soldiers for the sake of afforded comforts. It appeared oily in the light, and the colour of questionable water from the Vesperpool puddles of residual bog. Garnish floated along the surface, and he spared a glance to see Noctis’ more open revulsion of the dish after the brave attempt to test it out of politeness or starvation. 

“There is a restaurant,” it was a risk, he knew; “just a few blocks away from the entrance elevator. It serves passable Tenebraean fare.”

“Are you suggesting we leave, Ravus?”

“This is a battle I fear may be a lost cause.” Ravus barely glanced at their prattling hosts before he quietly slipped up from his seat and pushed away from the small, secluded table. He extended a hand to Noctis, and ignored the smug look the Shield offered him. “I would suggest a strategic retreat for now.”

“I have no idea what that means, but yes.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I grew up in peace.”

“Of course you did.”

“I did.”

“Then I shall take those bruises from our last sparring match as luck on your part.”

“I left bruises?” Noctis grinned as they slipped from the dining room and through the back halls. Through the crisp whites and emblemed corridors of the staff accesses, pausing only as the surprised waitstaff ushered them through their escape quickly. Ravus was grateful for the distraction from the conversation.

Their freedom was a matter of slipping through the halls and stepping out into the cold of the open city air. The Shield flanking them and occasionally leaning down to his Prince to mutter something during the long elevator ride to the street— to the guarded entrance Ravus only had to glare his way through if necessary. Noctis smiled once they had stepped beyond the ornate gates bearing the Imperial sigils. 

Around them the light caught on the snow. Fat, sticking flakes glittered as it fell like confetti around them, caught in Noctis’ hand as he raised it to catch them in his palm. Like this, in the evening quiet, Gralea could be beautiful. Ravus knew it could. If viewed with the right innocence.

“You would enjoy Altissia,” Ravus said, leading his guest down a familiar street to search for a blue sign that would stand out among the glittering golden light. “If you enjoy these lights, I mean.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been to Altissia.”

The door to the quiet restaurant chimed to announce their arrival, and the hostess darted away from her post at the sight of them. Ravus reached to brush the melting snow from Noctis’ hair. “It’s been some time since I’ve been there.”

He ignored the bemused look his gesture earned him from the Lucian and his Shield, and straightened as the hostess rushed back with a bottle of wine in her hands. They were seated by the window, beneath the heaters’ vents. Outside, the snow continued to fall across Gralea, a steady, persistent march of the weather that threatened to blanket the pristine streets. Outside, the shadows continued to be held at bay, and the chill of the Niflheim air warmed from their bones by the familiar, homey tastes of Tenebrae. The wine was sweet and soft, and went down like water with the earthy stew Ravus requested. The wet chill of the weather held at bay by the homey warmth beneath the golden lights of the store front and its sylleblossom pattered curtains.


End file.
